


I Blame Tight Jeans

by RedBubbles



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Jake/Jane, Stripper!Dirk, Strippers, Wingman!Roxy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 18:37:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8171812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedBubbles/pseuds/RedBubbles
Summary: Jake has been single ever since 8th grade, and his ever eager wing-woman Roxy decides to change that, leading him straight to a questionable strip club, with mesmerising dancers and luridly coloured cocktails.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I came up with this idea years ago, and I only just decided to write it out properly. I just really like the idea of Dirk being a stripper? I think he'd rock it.

Jake runs his hand through his hair for the fiftieth time, and Roxy turns to fuss over it for the fifty-first.  
“Stop messing with it!” she scolds, running her fingers through it deftly, teasing it up into a more sticky, gelled version of his usual hair, “this is my masterpiece,”  
Jake raises his eyebrows, and adjusts his glasses.  
“My hair is your masterpiece?” he asks sceptically. Roxy taps her fingers under his chin, smearing gel across his jaw.  
“Darling, you’re my masterpiece,” she says, then gives him a beaming smile, “and tonight is your debut!”  
Jake sighs and looks at his bare feet. He wiggles his toes against the cold tiles, then tugs on his jacket.  
“Maybe I don’t want to be debuted,” he mutters, but Roxy doesn’t hear him. She’s focusing on re-applying lipgloss, pouting and smacking her lips and blowing little kisses at herself in the mirror. Jake sighs and shuffles over, standing beside her and looking at himself in the mirror. He looks no different than usual, except he’s wearing short shorts and his hair is slicked up. It looks slightly greasy.  
“I’m not going to get anyone looking like this,”  
Roxy makes little kissing noises as she fixes her hair.  
“Jake, if you were straight, and I were single, we both know I’d be all over you,”  
Jake looks at her in surprise.  
“You’re not single?”  
She gives him a cheeky smile.  
“I must have some secrets,”  
“No, come on, tell me!” he demands as she shrugs her handbag onto her arm and wriggles into a very flattering white leather jacket. She fluffs her hair, then gives him a wide, pink smile.  
“Shall we go?”  
“No, I want to know who you’re-“  
But Roxy is already halfway out the door, striding forward confidently despite her 6 inch pink heels of death, leaving a cloud of sweet perfume in her wake. Jake grabs his shoes and darts after her.  
“Roxy! Tell me!” he calls after her, and she stops halfway down the stairs.  
“Have you got the keys?”  
Jake feels around in his pockets.  
“Yes,”  
“Have you locked the door?”  
Jake glances over his shoulder. The door still stands wide open.  
“One sec,”  
He darts back up and pulls the door shut, and takes a minute to breath in and out deeply, psyching himself up to go out. Last time he went out to something like this, he was 15, and had blindly thrown himself at the first guy he’d seen. He puffs his chest out, determined not to do the same thing again this time.  
“Jake!” Roxy calls up the stairs, “the night moves fast!”  
“Yeah, coming!” he calls, locking the door, and darting down after her.


	2. Chapter 2

Jake can feel the music in every part of his body, and he hates it. His heart isn’t racing with adrenaline. His head isn’t clouded by alcohol. His senses aren’t heightened by drugs. He’s just nervous, jumpy and starting to get into a bad mood. Roxy, however, is in her element, ordering a rainbow of brightly coloured shots, immediately chatting up the (admittedly attractive) bartender. As he gives her a smile and turns away to prepare her drink, Roxy turns to Jake. He’s hunched over a gin and tonic, swirling the drink around the glass moodily.  
“So the plan is,” Roxy begins, “to get-“  
“Plan for what?” Jake asks. He sips his drink. The gin is spicy and fruity, not one he’s had before.  
“To get you laid,” Roxy continues, “what’s going to happen is, you make all the first moves,”  
Jake takes another sip of his gin and tonic.  
“Last time I made the first move on someone, I ended up almost losing a friendship,”  
He knows that by bringing up Jane, Roxy might back off a little, and just maybe let him enjoy the night without the pressure of ending it in another man’s bed.  
“Jake,” Roxy says firmly, “what I mean is, you point out all the guys who you think are cute, so I don’t go for them,”  
Jake raises a finger to her.  
“I can already see one problem with that,”  
“Which is?”  
“You are female,”  
“I’m glad you noticed,”  
“And I’m male,”  
“Good observation,”  
“The guys I go for may not go for you, and the guys you go for may not go for me. Likewise, the guys I go for may go for you, and vice versa,”  
Roxy rolls her eyes, and knocks back a shot with a flick of her wrist.  
“You don’t know this place, do you?”  
“It’s a club?”  
“It’s not just any club,” she tells him, grabbing another shot glass, which is bright blue and swirled with orange, “it’s the All Rounder. Everyone in here is down to get with everyone else,”  
Jake almost chokes on his drink.  
“You bought me to an orgy club?!”  
“Not orgies! I mean that most people in here won’t care what gender the person they’re making out with is,”  
“Well that’s reassuring,” Jake mutters, finishing his drink.  
“And for the people who aren’t into making out, there’s plenty of other activities,”  
“This is a club, not a holiday package,”  
“I’m trying to sell it to you. Are you being sold?”  
“What are the other activities? Surfing? Clay pigeon shooting? Maybe I should find the kids club,”  
Roxy downs the shot.  
“I’ll put you in the time out corner if you’re not careful. Other activities include drinking, getting drunk, getting people to buy you drinks, and,” her eyes light up, “strippers,”  
“Strippers?”  
Roxy beams at him.  
“Have I sold you?”  
Jake looks away.  
“You’re getting there,”  
“Ooohhh, I didn’t know you were into voyerism,”  
“Voyerism is watching people having sex, I’m not into that,”  
“Tom-ay-to, tom-ah-to, same difference,”  
Jake turns in his seat, looking up at the stage that he hadn’t noticed when they’d first walked in. A girl wearing almost nothing is swaying her hips in time to the beat, licking her lips and blowing kisses to the audience.  
“Wanna get better seats?”   
Jake watches the girl for a few more seconds, then shrugs.  
“Sure, why not,”  
Roxy raises two fingers to the bartender, and smiles. He nods.  
“Don’t worry,” she tells him as she hops off the stool, “there are male strippers too,”  
The bartender sets down two elaborate, brightly coloured cocktails, and Roxy grabs both, pushing one into Jake’s hand.  
“Here, you’re going to drink it,”


	3. Chapter 3

Jake watches the dancer swaying her hips, completely mesmerised. The sequins on her bedazzled panties glitter, and the music booms. On either side of him, people are crowding in, reaching up to tuck money into her bra and waistband. She smiles and shakes and spins, playing up to the crowd. Jake doesn’t tear his gaze away until Roxy’s finger wipes over his glasses. He jumps, jerking his head away. Roxy giggles.  
“Sorry, they were fogging up,”  
Jake hastily pulls the glasses off and rubs them on his shirt, flushing slightly, although he blames it on the close packed bodies and alcohol.  
“No they weren’t,” he mutters, putting them back on. The blurred figure of the girl comes back into focus, and she finishes with a flourish as the song ends, tossing her long black hair over her shoulder and pouting to the crowd. As she turns and walks away off the stage, with all the grace and confidence of a cat walk model, Jake can’t help but stare at her ass.  
“Is that real, do you reckon?” Jake asks Roxy, and she follows his gaze, “I’ve never seen an ass that…curved, with a stomach that flat,”  
Roxy rolls her eyes at him, and sips her cocktail.   
“She probably has the workout schedule of a heavy weight boxer, and she just burns all the calories off,”  
“Hmm,” is all Jake gives her in reply, watching as the stage lights turn from dark blue to bright orange and whites, lighting up the stage like a spotlight. One circular beam of light falls on the figure standing at the end of the stage, his back to the audience, one hand on his hip, his very pronounced butt facing out to the crowd. Dressed in tiny denim shorts and nothing else, he turns slowly, the ridges of muscle on his abdomen rendered in shadow and tanned light. He twitches his hips as the music begins to play. His grin is lazy and relaxed, and he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his short, and starts to dance, but not in any way that Jake had ever seen. His body snakes and twists and curves and turns in such mesmerising, entrancing patterns, his eyes become glued, and he can’t tear them away, not even when his glasses fog up and he has to take them off again to clean them. His blurred gaze stays on the man even then, completely hypnotised by his swaying hips and alluring chest, a chest that Jake would just love to be held against. Jake had never really considered himself an ass man, but right now, he definitely understood the appeal. The shorts showed off just enough of the enticing curve of his butt to keep Jake on the edge of the stage, craning for a better look. He barely acknowledges Roxy giggling and whispering something in his ear, nothing registering except for her hissing ‘I think he’s staring at you’, mixed with the sickly sweet scent of the alcohol on her breath. Jake hopes the man is staring at him, because he’s definitely staring back, even though other dancers have joined him. The song seems to drag on forever, and Jake loves every second of it. For a third time, he has to wipe off his glasses, and when he looks back up, the man is definitely staring at him, smirking at him over pointed shades with eyes that burn right into him. He gasps, gaping like a fish, and the man puckers his lips in a sort-of kiss, and then moves on, gaining appreciative wolf whistles and cheers. The bass thuds through Jake, and he finds himself bouncing on his heels in time to the beat. But it’s all too late, as the music begins to die down, and he can tell that the guy is pulling the last moves of the song. He doesn’t want it to end, and as he begins to slink back into the shadows, out of the light, Jake cranes his neck to catch the last few glimpses of his beautiful figure. Roxy is beaming at him when he finally looks round at her.  
“Did you enjoy that? Have I sold this club to you yet?”  
Jake nods.  
“Yeah, it was…good,” he says, and only just notices the oddly tight sensation in his jeans, “hey, I might step outside for a sec, is that ok?”  
The moment the words leave his lips, he realises it might not be ok. A tall guy had slipped up beside Roxy while Jake had been preoccupied staring at the dancer, and has both hands on Roxy’s waist, and his lips brushing over her hair. She gives him a smile, and briefly checks out her eyes. She seems sober enough, sober for Roxy, anyway.  
“That’s fine,”   
The guy’s hands slip down to her ass, and she slaps them away. The gesture reassures Jake, and he smiles back.  
“I’ll see you in a sec. Promise you won’t sneak out without me?”  
“I promise,” she says, and she’s already being tugged away by the man. Jake heads to the exit, head pounding, jean tight. Maybe some fresh, cold air will help.


	4. Chapter 4

The alleyway out the back is dark, smelly and grimy, at least it's quiet and away from the blinding lights and the blaring music. Jake sighs loudly and leans heavily against the wall. The cigarettes in his pocket rattle, making him grimace. They drag his mind back to Roxy, and he briefly wonders if he should have left her alone, grinding up against a random guy who looked far too handsy and eager to be left alone with any woman. Jake turns back towards the club, but stops. He can hear the thumping music through the door, and when he presses his hand against the wall, he can feel it vibrating with the bass. He steps back. Standing for a few minutes, he then reaches into his pocket, drawing out a fag. His hands shake slightly as he brings it to his mouth. A door to his right opens, one he hadn’t noticed before, just as he reaches into his back pocket to get a lighter. He jumps at the loud clang of the door closing. He looks over and sees a man with a gym bag slung over his shoulder locking the door behind him. The laces on his worn trainers drag across the wet ground. Jake realises he's gawping at him, the cigarette balanced precariously on his bottom lip. The man turns once the door's locked, his pointed shades catching the light of the flickering lamppost. Stubble shadows his jaw, and his skin is dark and tanned. His hair is blonde and spiked up, but it looks ruffled and slightly greasy. Jake wonders if this is from hair gel or from not being washed. He wears fingerless gloves with tiny spikes on the knuckles. Overall, he’s very attractive, and Jake feels a tug in his gut as he stares. He looks oddly familiar though.  
"Need a light?” the man asks, peering at Jake over the top of his glasses. His orange eyes flash, just like they had…on…on the stage! He looks so different now, dressed in loose sweatpants and a university hoodie.  
"Y-you're the dancer,” is all Jake says, voice wobbling. The man's face falls slightly, and he pushes his glasses up his slightly curved nose, hiding his glowing eyes.  
"Yea. I’m 'the dancer'," he says in a low, gravelly voice, "astute observation,"  
Jake flushes red, although the man can't see it in the darkness.  
"I-no, I didn't mean it like that, I, um, I just meant that you...you...” Jake glances back up, and he’s being watched. He stands completely still, not even the huge muscles on his arms and shoulders move. Jake sees the tendon in his neck flicker as he swallows, and thinks about kissing that tendon, feeling that flicker of movement under his lips. He begins to panic.  
"Wh-what I meant was, y-you...you looked really good, up there," Jake stammers, then looks away, dropping his tone, "if you don't mind me saying,"  
Jake hears nothing for a few seconds, then he hears the crunch as the man's trainers drag against the ground. Jake looks up.  
"Thanks. Don't suppose you've got any fags left?" he grins at Jake, mouth slightly crooked. His mouth is a beautiful shape, and his teeth are perfect, straight and white, clashing with his dark skin.  
"Oh, y-yeah, sure." Jake digs into his pocket and pass him one. He puts it between his lips lazily, in a motion that’s so effortlessly cool and smooth, in complete contrast to Jake’s jerking fingers and twitching hands.  
"You got a light? You've been standing there with it between your lips unlit ever since I walked out,"  
He's watching Jake again, but in a different way. Jake can't quite work out in what way though.  
"Th-there's one in my back pocket," he mutters, reaching back to grab it. The man moves a step closer, so his chest is almost pressed against Jake’s. His breath hitches and he gulps, looking up. The man’s orange eyes peek over his glasses, staring at Jake. That damn crooked smile plays on his lips. Jake’s glasses fog up.  
"Allow me," he says in a soft, almost seductive tone. Jake feels his hand slip around his waist, and he's sure he deliberately trails his fingers over Jake's hip as he reaches into his back pocket. Jake doesn't, or rather he can't, break eye contact with the man, staring up as he slips two dexterous fingers into Jake's butt pocket and pulls the lighter out, fingers trailing the curve of Jake's arse slightly. He's a whole head taller than Jake, and he smells of sweat masked by cheap deodorant, energy drinks and cigarette smoke, and while the combined smell on anyone else would be enough to make Jake gag, he desperately want to pull the man closer and inhale that heady scent. The man slowly pulls his hands away and flicks the lighter, a tiny flame flickering up in the night. It barely lights up his face, but as he brings it to the cigarette between Jake's lips, he sees his eyes flicker over Jake's face, studying him in the meagre light. He then lights his own up and hands Jake the lighter. He doesn't step away, but does lean back, blowing smoke out gently over his lips. Jake notices two piercings glinting just beneath his lips. Snake bites. He draws on the fag and breath out the comforting smoke.  
"My name is Jake," Jake says, breaking the silence. The man glances at him, the lit stub glinting off his utterly kissable lips.  
"Dirk," he says. He doesn't offer his hand, and Jake doesn't offer his. Maybe they’re both beyond that level of formality now.  
They smoke in silence. Jake tries not to stare at Dirk, and wishes Dirk would do the same with him, as he can feel Dirk’s bright eyes burning holes in his body, especially his painfully exposed thighs. The flush returns to Jake's cheeks. He doesn't notice he's finished his cigarette until a large, warm hand closes around his wrist gently.  
"Y'might wanna chuck that one," Dirk says, nodding towards the stub in Jake’s fingers. The glowing orange tip is almost touching his skin.  
"O-oh, thank you," Jake says, dropping it and squashing it beneath his foot. Dirk takes one last long drag on his, then drops it and does the same. He re-addjusts the gym bag over his shoulder and turns away. For some reason, as he begins walking away, Jake takes a step after him.  
"Dirk!” he calls out. Dirk turns, peering at Jake over the top of his shades. Jake’s mouth goes dry.  
"I don't suppose w-we could meet again somet-times, perhaps?" he calls, unsure if Dirk can hear him. He does, and a small smirk tugs the corner of his mouth up.  
"Check your back pocket, Jakey boy," he replies, waving his hand in farewell once and then continuing out onto the street. Jake's hand moves far too fast to his back pocket and he feels something in there along with the lighter. He pulls it out, almost tearing it. A piece of paper flutters in between his fingers, a number scrawled on it, the name Dirk written beneath it...and a ;) beneath that. Jake blushes, and finds himself grinning like an idiot.


End file.
